The Magiker
by AssasinNinja
Summary: Arnold and Gerald visit a fortune teller on the last day of summer, and the old gypsy reveals a great destiny to Arnold, one he is powerless to prevent. He is the Magiker, the chosen one, and his life is beginning now.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

**The Last Day of Summer**

"C'mon Arnold, it'll be fun." Gerald smiled at his best friend, and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Stop that, Gerald. You know I don't believe in fortune telling." Arnold said, completely opposed to the idea of wasting his money on some nut-job with a glass ball. Arnold was an accomplished amateur magician himself, he had even made Helga disappear once, and his friends could attest, that was no small feat. Because he had a decent knowledge of staged magic, he knew all the old tricks. The ball was electronic, and a trigger ran from under the table to the psychic's palm. When she pressed down on the trigger, the lights would flash, change colors, etc.

"Don't you want to know your future?" Gerald was almost begging Arnold to follow him into the tent.

The fortune telling itself required far more primitive technology. The human mind was the only tool a 'psychic' needed. Say something vague, a common name, mention a lost pet, the average person is more than willing to find attachment in obscure predictions.

Anyone smart enough to see through the facade wouldn't bother wasting money just to disprove a prediction, so gullible fools kept the Fortune Teller's reputation alive.

"Arnold! Pleeeeeeaaaaasssseeee!" Gullible fools like Gerald.

"Fine, but do you promise to stop talking about it?"

Gerald made a gesture as if to zip his lips together, then waved his arm in a circle toward the tent's entrance. He all but sprinted in through the fold, and Arnold reluctantly followed suit.

The inside of the tent was dark, and dimly lit by scented candles. Arnold almost choked on the overpowering aroma of lavender. He pressed his nose into his sleeve, and waited with Gerald before a large draping curtain.

"Come een." A woman with a clearly fake accent of unidentifiable origin beckoned to the boys from behind the veiling curtain. With his free hand, Arnold motioned for Gerald to go first. Gerald shook his head, and pointed at Arnold.

Arnold shook his head violently, and thrusted his arm to the curtain once more. His eyes flashed at Gerald, their intent clear. This was your idea, you go in first, they said. Gerald inhaled deeply, and strode forth. As he pushed the veil aside, and shuffled into the center of the tent, Arnold followed.

"Goot afternoon, gentlemen." Sitting at a bare, brown, hardwood table, was a woman in gypsy-like clothing. There was no crystal ball, no poorly hidden wires, just a woman in rags in a chair. She moved her hand like a wave across the table, and Arnold noticed two chairs he hadn't seen before. They stood opposite from her at the table.

"Please, boys, sit down." The Gypsy Woman spoke, her face mostly hidden under a silk scarf, and Arnold and Gerald did as she said. The chairs weren't uncomfortable, but they forced the boys' backs to be straight. Arnold shifted, but his posture remained unaffected, for the chair would not let him slouch.

"Forgive my, archaic furniture, but I have had them for all my life..." The Gypsy waved her hand, "They are... precious to me."

"We understand." Arnold nodded politely. The Gypsy Woman's face broke out into a smile under her veil, and Arnold averted his eyes from her gaze.

"Now, let us get down to the business, no?" Her accent was thick, and almost ever-changing. Arnold couldn't get used to it. From her deep pockets, she pulled large cards, and laid them out on the table, face down, "Now... Arnold."

Arnold jumped slightly as the woman said his name, but he reassured himself through his fears. Surely she had been tipped off, or maybe she knew the boys. Either way, there was no possibility that she had 'predicted' Arnold's name. It just wasn't possible.

She flipped a card over, revealing a top hat and cane.

"Oh... oh my." She touched the card at its center, and it burst into a blue flame, "The magiker."

The card turned to purple smoke that drifted up toward the tent's ceiling.

"Tell me, Arnold. Are you a practitioner of the dark arts?" She asked, chuckling slightly.

"What? No. Of course not. I don't believe in that stuff." Arnold said, almost trying to convince himself.

"Believe it or not, I sense a great power in you. The power to change lives. The power of the magiker."

"What's a magiker?"

The woman twisted her fingers around, and the smoke from the ceiling flew downward. From within the smoke, the image of a magician appeared.

Holograms, Arnold thought to himself. Obviously.

The magician twirled in circles, and started doing magic tricks.

"They may appear as mere tricks to the mortal eye, but the magiker is a holder of dark power. He is no sorcerer, no wizard. He needs cast no spells, no incantations, no curses. At his fingertips, he can summon flames, alter gravity, freeze time. His power is limitless, beyond imagination."

The Gypsy cackled, and the smoke vanished.

"What? Are you saying, that I can do all those things?"

"Interpret how you may... I sense a great destiny in you."

Arnold looked over at Gerald, who was raising an eyebrow, and smirking.

The Gypsy woman turned back to the cards, and flipped one over at random.

"Ah... the woman."

The card had an image of a faceless woman, with flowing hair. The Gypsy touched the card, and it turned into a strand of blonde hair. She took the hair, and from her sleeve pulled out a match. Igniting the strand, it turned into a pink smoke.

"There is a woman tied to your destiny..."

Arnold blushed.

"... A woman you think you know well, but have never truly seen."

"What do you mean?"

"Shh! The last card, it is deciding." The Gypsy flipped the last card over, and revealed the image of a crashing train, "Ohh... the catalyst."

"The catalyst?"

"Soon, your destiny will begin to unfold. That is all I can say." She slapped her hand down on the card, and when she took her hand away, the card was gone.

"Whoa." Arnold whispered.

After hearing Geralds vague and slightly less imposing fortune, the boys left the tent.

"Well... that was interesting." Arnold said calmly.

"Interesting!" Gerald said, disbelief in his tone, "Interesting? All you can say is interesting? That woman told you that you had some, special destiny and what not, and you say interesting?"

"It wasn't real Gerald."

"I don't know Arnold... I always thought you were special." Gerald shoved his hands into his pockets, "And you made Helga disappear that one day."

"That was a trick Gerald." Arnold said, only slightly lying. He knew that Helga had disappeared longer than he expected, but she had left out of the back of the box, hadn't she?

"Whatever man, I'm just saying..." Gerald mumbled.

They returned to Arnold's house for a while, before Gerald went back home.

Just before Arnold went to sleep, he felt something strange move from his toes to the tip of his head. Like some strange energy was passing through him. He shook it off and went to sleep, not knowing what awaited him the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**The First Day of School**

Arnold P. Shortman pulled his pocket watch out from his jeans, and checked the time absentmindedly. When he returned the watch to his pocket, he realized he couldn't remember what he had just seen. Reluctantly, he pulled his watch out again and paid close attention to what time he saw.

It was 7:45, if he didn't catch a bus soon, he would be late for school.

He sighed loudly, drawing the attention of his best friend Gerald, who sat beside him on a cool metal bench.

"Anxious Arnold?" He asked, smirking at his friend with shallow eyelids. It was the first day of their senior year in high school.

"No, I just don't want to be late." They had been late to school the first day of every year since eighth grade, it had become almost a tradition. A tradition Arnold was more than eager to break. Neither of the boys could explain their repetitive first day tardiness, for every year they were late for a different reason.

This year, Arnold had taken every precaution. They packed their book bags a week in advance, slept in their school clothes the night before, and had gotten to the bus stop a whole fifteen minutes earlier than usual.

If they were going to be late this year, it would be from destiny, not carelessness. Arnold's mind wandered back to their visit to the Gypsy the previous day, and he shook off her mindless predictions about destiny.

Speaking of destiny, there the bus was now. The door opened in front of the boys, and they quickly exchanged glances.

"Well... this is it." Arnold said, rising from his seat on the bench and entering the bus. He stopped at the top of the stairs, and dropped his fair into the receptacle. He looked back momentarily at his friend.

"If we sit down in this bus, anything that makes us late, will not be our fault." He made his way into the bus, with Gerald close behind him. As he walked through the rows of seats, heading to the backseat where he and Gerald preferred to sit, something caught his eye.

Not something, someone.

Sitting a few seats back from the driver, was a well dressed attractive girl. She had her own particular style, and Arnold found it fascinating. She was dressed like a vagabond poet, a wandering beatnik. Though she had the style of a homeless person, she was clearly not. The clothing was all new, and clean, and her hair was brushed and taken care of as well, hiding under a pink wool beanie. Her make-up was applied subtly as well, emphasizing, not masking, the natural beauty of her face. She was looking out the window, seemingly lost in thought, her mouth curved into a slight frown.

Arnold was entranced, and bumped into the side of the seat in front of him.

"Ow." He softly vocalized, drawing the attention of the mystery girl for half a second. As her face turned out of profile, Arnold realized who she was.

"Helga?" He realized how shocked he had sounded when he said her name, and quickly covered for it, "Uh, how was your summer?"

"Fine football head, thanks for asking." She answered grumpily, and turned back to the window, sighing. Something was amiss with her, and Arnold could tell.

"Man move it Arnold, there's no one in our seat." Gerald urged from behind him, gently pushing him forward with an open hand. Arnold nodded at Helga, even though she was no longer looking at him, and moved to the open backseat. Unbeknownst to him, Helga followed Arnold with her eyes as he took his seat.

"Senior year, this is it Arnold, the big one. The most important year of our lives."

"If you say so Gerald," Arnold said half-heartedly, his mind still stuck on how he had been so impressed by Helga, "I don't really think high school is that important. I mean, sure, now it seems like the biggest thing ever, but once we leave, are we still gonna have that opinion?"

"Don't depress me this early in the morning Arnold." Gerald joked. Arnold smiled back at him.

Then, destiny reared an ugly head. The Catalyst had been decided.

Later, the police would say that an overdose of sleeping aids had caused the driver's momentarily lapse in consciousness. They would say that the angle the bus hit the newspaper stand caused it to fly into the air. They would say that the impact with the ground caused the roof of the bus to cave in. The Gypsy might say different.

Arnold woke up on the bus's ceiling, he didn't know it yet, but his wrist was broken. His hat was gone, his hair was out of place, and sticky. Sticky with blood from where he had hit his head. His arms were wrapped around someone, but he didn't know why or who. Then she moved slightly, and groaned, and he realized it was Helga.

"Helga? are you alright?" He asked, the pain in his wrist had yet to manifest itself. His mind was too foggy to realize he was hurt.

"Arnold?" She asked softly, "Wh-what happened?"

"I... don't know. I think the bus crashed." Arnold looked around the bus, but his vision was blurry, and seemed to swell and collapse with every heartbeat. There was a buzzing in his left ear.

"No dip Sherlock..." Helga began sarcastically, "Why are you holding me?"

"I don't know... are you hurt?" He asked, his voice wrought with concern.

"No... I'm fine, my head aches a little. You cushioned my fall." She moved to stand up, "Thank you."

Arnold tried to prop himself up on his wrist, then felt the splintering pain in his bone. He gritted his teeth and inhaled through them. He pulled his hand back into his chest and held it with his good hand. Helga stood up on the bus, and other people started to do the same.

"Is everyone okay?" Someone toward the front called. Several answered in positive and negative responses. Arnold heard Gerald from afar.

"I'm good." The boy had said.

"Gerald?"

"Arnold?" Arnold stood up slowly, and walked over to his friend, "Dude, are you okay?"

"I don't know, my wrist kinda hurts."

"Where's Helga?"

"I'm right here." Helga pushed her way through two huddled eighth graders.

"I think we're gonna be late again this year." Gerald said to Arnold.

* * *

Arnold sat on a gurney next to Helga, his wrist in a brace.

"Arnold... the medic said I'm lucky you protected me, they think I might have fractured my skull if things had been different."

"Well, if it's any consolation... I didn't mean to protect you." Arnold said smiling. Helga smiled back, blushing. Gerald was being checked by a paramedic with a flashlight, so far, it didn't look like he had a concussion.

Arnold sighed and rubbed his thigh with his good hand. He doubted he would be making it to school today.

"Hey Helga, me and Gerald were going to get some burgers later today, do you want to come?" Without realizing it, Arnold had just invited Helga to dinner. He must've got a concussion.

"Uh... sure football head." Her eyes were wide as she stood up off the gurney, and walked over to her parents who had just arrived, "When?"

"Around eight I think. We'll come and get you." Arnold said as she walked away, smiling at him.

He watched her go, admiring her until his eyes met her father's, who was glaring. Arnold dropped his gaze to the ground, and waited for his Grandpa to arrive.

* * *

Arnold sat in an old sofa on his roof, watching the news. His head was bandaged, his wrist was casted, and his plaid pea coat was buttoned up completely, protecting his t-shirt adorned chest from the biting cold. Gerald sat next to him, holding the remote.

It was six o'clock on the first day of their senior year of high school, and they hadn't even gotten close to the school. Their was good news, their accident had earned them a spot on the six o'clock news, and they were waiting anxiously to watch it.

"Man, I hope they play my interview." Gerald said, in his t.v. show host voice.

"I hope they play the footage from the bus's camera."

"I don't know man, watching myself get thrashed up like that seems a little disturbing to me." Gerald rubbed his head, "I got more bruises than I can count, I'm not sure if I want to relive that."

"I want to see what... happened." Arnold hadn't told Gerald how he had saved Helga from injury, because frankly he wasn't sure how it happened. The tape would be the ultimate witness, and his actions would be revealed.

Then, Gerald's interview played on the t.v.

"S'me! Dude that's me!"

"Yeah," The televised Gerald spoke, "We were on our way to school, and the bus, flipped or something. I donno."

"I was born to be on camera, Arnold." Gerald said smiling. Then, the bus's footage was played.

Arnold watched as he and Gerald sat in the back seat, then everyone shifted to their left. The bus was flipping.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Evidence**

The camera from the bus only shot at a few frames per second, so the viewer only witnessed about 1/10th of the action. The bus flipped over the course of two or three frames, and Arnold hadn't caught what happened on the first viewing.

The news repeated the tape a few times, once in slow motion, and Arnold was finally able to figure out what happened. Well, more or less.

He was on one side of the bus, then almost instantly, he was on Helga's side, and was wrapping his arms around her.

"What?" Arnold asked the television aloud.

"What, what?"

"Didn't you see that?" Arnold said, turning to Gerald, "Here, give me the remote."

Gerald handed Arnold the remote to the television, and he paused it right as he changed sides of the bus. It was one of those moments where you might thank god that DVRs were invented, but Arnold was too distracted to think about it.

"Look, do you see that?"

"See what?" Gerald asked, semi-apathetically.

"Look," Arnold pointed to a spot on the television, "There's me, right there, next to you. Right?"

"Yeah."

"And here's Helga, and here I am again, right behind her."

Gerald leaned in close to the television.

"Whoa." He said, after staring blankly at the screen for some time, "How are you in two places at once?"

"I don't know, Gerald..." Arnold said, but his mind echoed with the words of the Fortune Teller, "I don't know."

"Arnold?"

"Yeah, Gerald?"

"I just realized how cold it is today. It's got to be at most, 40 degrees out here."

Arnold nodded slowly. Gerald was right, it was unseasonably cold. Hillwood had had strange weather in the past, but to be so cold with September just beginning? Something was amiss. Arnold shivered, apparently even his coat was failing at keeping him comfortably warm.

"What time is it, man?" Arnold asked, looking at the clock on the cable box, but not paying any attention to what he saw.

"6:41, why?"

"We still got a while until dinner, I want to go check something out."

"Cool, where are we headed?"

Arnold looked at Gerald grimly, and the wind howled.

* * *

"Gone. Just... gone." Arnold said, kicking a loose stone through the dusty dirt.

The tent where only yesterday the two boys had gotten their fortunes read, was nowhere to be seen.

"I don't get it, it just showed up yesterday. Why would the lady leave after only one day?" Gerald asked to no one in particular.

"This is odd, man this is odd." Arnold said, frustration creeping into his voice.

"Yeah... you know, Arnold, I've been thinking, about what that lady said."

"Yeah, me too." Arnold sighed, "The bus thing, I mean it just... I don't know."

"It just makes sense?"

"Yeah." Arnold groaned, "As much as I hate to admit it, the bus crash fits with the Gypsy's prophecy."

"So... you think you can, you know, do magic and stuff?"

Arnold's eyes widened.

"What? No! Gerald, are you serious?" Arnold cleared his throat, "I think the Lady sabotaged our bus!"

Arnold rubbed his hand over his cast.

"Arnold, I know you don't believe in all this stuff," Gerald began, "But your theory seems more unlikely than mine! You really think that lady would go to all that trouble, sabotage are bus, and possibly kill some people, just to make her predictions come true?"

"However unlikely it is, it has to be true. To consider the alternative would mean that-"

"That the world isn't grounded in science and logic?"

"Yeah..." Arnold took a deep breath, "C'mon, we better go."

* * *

Arnold unwrapped his burger, and as the smells of greasy beef and crispy buns swam into his nostrils, he realized how hungry he actually was. He bit down and tore a hunk of cheeseburger away from its whole.

"Mmmm." He chewed slowly, allowing the food to sit on his tastebuds as long as possible before swallowing. He closed his eyes as he felt the salty mush slide down his throat and into his stomach.

He opened his eyes, and looked to see Helga and Gerald staring at him. He switched his focus back and forth between them as he reached for his drink.

"What?" He drank down about half of his glass.

"You okay Arnold?" Gerald asked.

"Yeah, I'm just-just hungry. I'm hungry, you know?" Arnold took another bite from his burger. Then another bite, and another, then it was gone, "Hmm."

"What's up?" Gerald asked.

"Still hungry." Arnold said, but then shook it off, "So Helga, are you okay?"

"Yeah." Helga said quickly, "Like I said earlier, without you I'd be much worse off."

"Well I'm glad I could help you, Helga." Arnold said, smiling. Helga looked away as a small smile formed on her lips.

"There's just one thing," She said, her smile vanishing, "One strange thing, about the tape of the crash."

Gerald looked at Arnold, and Arnold looked back at him. Then he turned back to Helga.

"What about the tape, Helga?" Arnold asked.

"Well, the News said that the driver fell asleep because of complications with his sleeping aids, but his eyes are open the whole time in the video."

Arnold exhaled, and chuckled. Gerald joined in, and soon the two were laughing quite loud. Helga, quickly grew embarrassed and stood up.

"Fine then, football head. I can see my observations aren't welcome in the company of idiots like yourselves."

Arnold stopped laughing instantly.

"No, no, no! Helga, we weren't laughing at your theory, I promise."

"Likely story, head boy."

"No, I'm serious!" Arnold said. Helga sat back down, but she was clearly still upset.

"Well, then. Prove it." The boys said nothing, "What were you laughing at then? You morons."

"I... well, we-" Gerald began.

"We noticed an anomaly in the footage too." Arnold finished. He cleared his throat, "R-right, Gerald?"

"Yeah, that's why we laughed. We thought you saw it too." Gerald agreed.

"Well..." Helga said.

"Well, what?" Gerald asked.

"What did you see?" She took a french fry from her plate and dipped it in ketchup, "On the tape, I mean."

"Well... well I-" Arnold started.

A noise filled their table, and Helga checked her phone.

"Well, that's my Dad guys." She stood back up and started pulling money from her wallet.

"That's okay, Helga. We know the owner, don't worry about it." Arnold said.

"You sure?" Helga asked, the money in her hand.

"Yeah, don't worry about it." Arnold smiled at her, "Thanks for coming."

"It was nice, guys." She smiled at them, "Don't think we'll ever do it again, but it was nice."

"Very funny, Helga." Arnold said, "See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Helga." Gerald waved.

"Bye." Helga walked away from the table, leaving the two boys alone. They collectively sighed.

"That was close." Arnold said.

"Why can't we tell Helga about the footage?" Gerald asked, "You aren't scared the Gypsy was right, are you?"

"Of course not, Gerald. I just don't want Helga to think we're crazy."

"Since when have you cared about what Helga thinks?" Gerald chuckled.

Arnold unwrapped his cheeseburger and took out a large bite.

"Arnold?"

"Yes?"

"Did you order another burger?"

"No... whoa." Arnold dropped the mystery burger and stood straight up. He and Gerald locked eyes, "Okay, something strange is definitely happening to me."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Histories and Dreams**

Arnold stood on the roof of his family home with a half eaten burger in his hand. He had spent three hours in his room, testing the burger with all manners of scientific deduction and dissection. It was a real burger, or a real burger in that particular restaurant's meaning of the word. Arnold looked at it, then threw it toward a hungry looking pigeon. The winged creature began to slowly pick away at the c-grade food.

"Maybe the cashier brought me one-"

"And didn't make you pay for it?" Gerald quickly said, "We would've noticed her drop it off too Arnold."

"I know, but... when you eliminate all other possibilities, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the answer."

"Like magic?" Gerald asked.

"No, I mean like the cashier bringing me a free burger. Magic isn't improbable, it's blatantly impossible." Arnold forced a painfully fake laugh.

"Arnold," Gerald placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Look, I think maybe it's time you consider that you may be some sorta-"

"Wizard?" Arnold asked, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

"Nah, man. Like the fortune teller said, maybe you're some sort of 'Magiker'."

"A Magiker isn't a real thing, Gerald." Arnold sat down on the edge of the roof, letting his feet hang down over the ledge, "The Gypsy just made it up."

Gerald's voice softened, "I don't know Arnold... I didn't tell you this yet, because I thought you wouldn't care. But, last night after we got our fortune's read, I talked to my father about what the Gypsy told you."

"Aw, c'mon Gerald-"

"No listen." Gerald said sternly, "My father listed intently, he stared at me hard while I spoke, as if I were telling him someone died. After I finished talking he told me about a story my grandmother used to tell him before he went to sleep."

Arnold listened as Gerald continued.

"When my Grandma lived in New Orleans, she dated a man from a traveling circus, she later left him when she thought she saw him practicing voodoo. Only later did she find out that he wasn't doing voodoo, he came to her on the night of her first wedding to apologize for scaring her away. In a frantic rush, he explained everything to her."

Arnold stood up and started pacing behind Gerald as the boy stood looking out over the night coated town.

"He was a Magiker, the last in a long line of african princes gifted with the ability warp reality around them. He was over 100 years old, and had been sold into slavery during the heart of the 18th century."

Gerald inhaled, "He went willingly, and joined Harriet Tubman in the freeing of the slaves, later fighting in the Civil War, and standing proudly with the other freed slaves after the emancipation."

"You're starting to do your radio host voice again." Arnold said.

"Sorry," Gerald cleared his throat, "He came to my Grandma because he knew he was dying, his long life had finally caught up with him, and his illusion of youth would soon fade away."

"He told my Grandma she was the only woman he ever loved, and although she didn't believe him, she forgave him. He thanked her, and in one final show of magic he crafted for her a wedding gown made of diamonds and silk, then vanished from sight." Gerald's story ended there.

"Does your Grandma still have the dress?" Arnold asked.

Gerald took out his wallet, which was complete with a tiny family photo album, his grandparent's wedding photo sat in a little plastic flap behind all the others.

"Here." He took it out and handed it to Arnold, "She sold it when my Grandpa died."

Arnold's eyes widened as he beheld the photograph, the dress was so intricately designed he couldn't believe it to be a forgery, and even if it was, it was far too expensive looking for Gerald's grandmother to have afforded.

"Wow."

"I know." Gerald took the photo back and turned to leave, "But... you still don't believe... do you?"

"See you at school tomorrow." Arnold said, turning away.

"You too." Gerald walked down into Arnold's room and out of his sight.

Arnold took one last look at the night sky before heading to bed.

* * *

That night, Arnold had a curious dream indeed.

"Boy! Boy wake up!" A black man in a straw hat kicked Arnold's sleeping legs, knocking him out of his chair.

"Yes sir." Arnold said, dusting off his knees and replacing his brown bowler derby.

"Here, go clean out the elephant poop." The ring leader handed Arnold an old broom, and the boy eagerly took it, "And tell Barda to come to my tent."

"Yes sir." Arnold said, sprinting to the animal tent. He opened it, and the lions and tigers roared at him from their cages.

"Hey guys, it's me." Arnold walked over to the white tiger and opened the cage, "Tom wants to see you, Barda."

The tiger roared in Arnold's face, and the boy roared right back. They locked eyes for a moment, then embraced each other. Barda nuzzled her nose into Arnold's blonde hair, knocking off his hat.

"Easy girl." He said, shoving the tiger away playfully, "Off to Tom, okay?"

Barda nodded sadly, and left the tent. Arnold waved goodbye to her, then picked up his hat, replacing it on his head.

He walked over to the elephants and stepped into their cage. One side of the cage was in the tent, but the other was outside, where anybody could walk by and look at the animals.

Arnold swept a pile of Elephant droppings out of the cage and into the tent, then pointed at the pile with his broom. The droppings quickly sank into the ground, and were replaced by many strange and exotic flowers. He picked one, a bright blue flower with a thick purple stem, and then stepped back into the cage.

"Hey Starsky, hey Roy, how are things?" He asked the elephants, they trumpeted a response, "That's excellent."

"Are you really talking to the elephants?"

"Huh?" Arnold looked out through the cage at a girl his age staring back at him. She was dressed in the clothes of the wealthy, and her hair was cleaner than any woman's Arnold had ever seen.

"The elephants, are you talking to them?" She asked.

"Of course." Arnold said, smiling, "Who else would I be talking to?"

"But they can't understand you." She said.

"Says who?"

"Says everyone." Her voice was filled with condescension.

"I say they do understand me." Arnold said, "They always do as I say."

"That's because they're trained." She crossed her arms.

"So? What's your name?"

She huffed, "Why does that matter?"

Arnold shrugged, "It doesn't. Listen, if I make the elephants do something, will you believe me?"

"Depends." She said, looking away.

"On what?"

"Make them do something impressive," She unfolded her arms and grabbed at the bars of the cage, "Something intelligent!"

"Alright," Arnold turned to Starsky, "Hey, bud. Let's fight, okay?"

The elephant trumpeted loudly, and swung its trunk toward Arnold's face, the boy reacted as he had been slapped, and then Starsky brought his trunk back around and fake slapped him again.

They went back and forth for a few minutes, until Arnold threw up his hands in defeat, "You win! You win!"

He laughed and looked back at the girl, who was frowning.

"What?"

"What's your name?" She asked.

"I asked you first!" He proclaimed, only to be ignored, "Fine. My name is Arnold."

He suddenly realized he had been holding the blue flower all this while, and handed it to the girl through the bars of the cage.

She blushed madly, "I don't know what to say."

"You could say your name."

* * *

Arnold awoke at 6:00 am, a full thirty minutes before his alarm clock was due to go off. Sighing deeply, he rolled over in bed, but did not fall back asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**Villains****, Large and Small**

Three minutes into english class, and Arnold was already bored out of his mind. Helga sat right next to him, Gerald behind him, and Harold in front of him. To his left was the wall and the window, a sad and empty promise of freedom.

He leaned over and dropped his elbow into the little trench of wall that formed the rugged window sill. His head slumped against the window, spreading his hair out over the left side of his forehead. With his fingers, he absentmindedly tapped the window.

The sound did not resonate the way he expected, and the glass produced an almost hollow chirping noise.

Arnold was startled, but only stopped tapping. A surprise like that was the least of his worries at the moment.

His dream he could chalk up to Gerald's story having an influence on his imagination, but the cheeseburger and the bus were still fresh dilemmas in his mind. Only one thing in particular about the dream puzzled him. Try as he might he could not remember the face of the girl by the elephants. Everything else was vividly clear, as if he had actually been at the circus and not asleep in his bed. Only the girl was unattainable, as if her memory was hiding in the depths of his psyche.

He looked over at Helga, and felt a strange fluttering sensation in the left of his chest that he couldn't put a name to. She was looking straight ahead, and for the first time since he'd known her he was able to surmise that english was probably her favorite class.

And he could tell she could feel his eyes on her. She would fidget under his gaze, dropping her chin and rolling back her head subtly to try to confirm her suspicions. Finally she gave up her discreetness and turned toward his desk, catching Arnold's eyes in an instant.

She looked at him, expecting him to look away or explain himself but he didn't. Her eyes looked back and forth, an expression that seemed to express an ignorance rather than confusion, but Arnold saw through it.

She knew he was looking at her. Neither of them knew why, however.

Suddenly, there was a rapping from the exterior side of Arnold's window, and he jumped in his chair.

When he regained his composure, he saw a small bluejay staring at him from outside the glass. It pecked against the window again, and then again.

Arnold tapped his fingers in response.

The bluejay tilted its little head from left to right, then pressed its beak to the window. It held it there, firm against the glass, as if it were waiting for something.

Wary, and unsure, Arnold pressed his hand against the glass, covering the bird's beak. It started tapping again.

A voice not his own echoed inside Arnold's head, _"Beware the coming of Old Scratch. He walks the land once more."_

The bluejay flew away as soon as the sentence finished, and Arnold was left staring out the window in fear and confusion.

* * *

Arnold ate his food quietly and alone as he waited for Gerald to join him. As usual, he had been first to the line, and as usual the cafeteria was just filling up as he took his first bite of food. Unlike usual, Arnold wasn't enjoying his meal, he was far too flabbergasted to even notice what he was eating.

He knew Old Scratch, or at least the name. It was a folkloric alias for the ultimate evil. Satan, Lucifer, Mephistopheles. All schoolyard names for the king of liars. The Devil.

He shivered. A bluejay had flown to his window and told him the Devil was walking the earth.

"Hey, football head." Helga was standing next to Arnold, a brown paper bag in her hand, "Is this seat taken?"

Arnold shook his head, and his gaze dropped back to his tray, "No."

"Do you mind if I-"

"Sit down Helga," He looked back up at her and smiled, "Please."

She smiled back at him, and obliged.

"How are you?" He asked.

"I'm okay. You?"

"Fine." He replied, a little too abruptly. Helga could tell something was troubling him.

"Arnold?"

"I'm fine Helga, I swear." He said, trying his best to lie to her face.

"Hey, gang." Gerald said, taking the seat across from Arnold, "How goes it?"

Helga saluted the boy, "Geraldo, guten tag."

"You alright Arnold?" Gerald asked.

Arnold stood up, slamming his fists on the table, "Yes, I'm alright!"

He scream was choked, and his outburst did nothing to support his claim. He stared at Helga and Gerald, his eyes wide and sad.

Then, a pudding cup hit him in the face.

"Haha!" Arnold heard Harold's laughter from across the room, but knew the boy was not the culprit, he had long since abandoned his bullying ways. That didn't mean he couldn't join in with the mocking, and it stung Arnold all the same that his friend was laughing at his embarrassment.

Arnold looked out of the corner of his left eye, which was weighed down by the chocolate pudding on his eyelash. Ludwig, who had been held back and stuck in Arnold's class, was gearing up to throw another cup.

Arnold spun, stretching his hand out to block the pudding as it was flung across the room. He covered his face with his other arm, and waited for the goop to hit him.

However, it never did.

Slowly, Arnold brought his head out from hiding, and saw the pudding suspended in mid air, halfway out of its cup. He looked around, and saw the entire lunchroom wide-eyed, staring at him with frozen expressions of shock.

Then he realized it wasn't shock, and his classmates were, like the pudding cup, frozen. As if time and space around Arnold had halted progress, he was the only moving thing in the lunchroom.

There was no hiding from it anymore, Arnold realized. The Gypsy had not been crazy, or a con-artist. She had been revealing to Arnold the truth, unfolding a future he had never foreseen. He was a Magiker.

The Magiker, and he had great power.

For sometime he stood there, marveling in his feat of time-altercation. So many thoughts raced through his troubled head like horses at the track. He should move the cup so it faced Ludwig, then unfreeze time and let him taste his own butterscotch medicine.

While he was at it, he ventured he could take all the money from Ludwig's pockets and tie his shoelaces together.

In fact if he wanted to, he could take the money from everyone's pockets and tie all their shoelaces together.

He could do anything he wanted! He could shove Harold into the nearest trash-can for laughing at him. He could replaced everybody's chocolate milk with sand from the baseball field. He could position Eugene in mid-air above a flight of stairs and watch as he fell, breaking every bone in his body.

But Arnold had read to many comic books to do any of that. After all, with great power comes great responsibility.

Almost upset by his own morality, Arnold plumped back into his chair and accepted his pudding covered fate. Then, something caught his eye.

Helga was looking up at him, as she had been when time was frozen. Arnold saw a world of sadness and pity in her eyes. He was touched.

"Haha!" Harold laughed again as the butterscotch pudding covered the parts of Arnold's face left bear by the chocolate.

Helga Pataki stood up, her fists clenched tightly and her heart filled with rage. Suddenly, she felt a warming blush fill her face, and the strange sensation of having soft lips pressed against her own crept over her. She brought her finger up to her mouth, and looked over at Arnold, who was smiling at her. His face was reddened in a similar manner to her own.

She smiled back, then remembered the pudding and her frown returned.

Arnold watched gleefully as Helga marched over to Ludwig. It had been sometime since the boy had been able to hold his own against Helga, and she pounded him across the face relentlessly.

"You ever mess with Arnold again, I promise you, you'll have a bigger hospital bill than Eugene!" She turned to Eugene, who was sitting a table or two away, "No offense."

"None taken." He replied.

Arnold laughed out loud as Helga sent another fist into Ludwig's nose, causing blood to flow. He didn't know if it was the frozen kiss he had shared with her or not, but he had never been more attracted to Helga.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys, just wanted to say a quick thanks for all the reviews and the patronage. This chapter is a bit short, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!**

**CHAPTER SIX**

**I want you to hit me as hard as you can.**

Arnold Shortman stood in the middle of a familiar vacant lot. Six or seven of his childhood friends surrounded him as he spoke,"You wanna see a magic trick?"

They were intrigued, especially Gerald.

"Where are you going with this, Arnold?" He asked, wary of his friend's intentions.

Arnold had skipped the last two classes of the schoolday, leaving Gerald to struggle through art class and ecology by himself. It wasn't so bad, since it was only the second day of school, but Gerald had wanted to talk more about Arnold's special situation.

Arnold, however, had been working on his special situation himself, and had spent the last few hours investigating the extent of his new powers.

He hadn't discovered much, but the few things he had learned were enough to momentarily satisfy his curiosity.

"Just a simple trick, fellas." Arnold said, trying hard to mask a knowing smile. He had their attention, and his pals agreed to participate.

Across the street, Bob Pataki's car screeched to a halt. Helga Pataki unbuckled her seatbelt and sighed.

"You sure you want to hang out with these... vagrants?" Big Bob asked, his voice full of half-hearted spite.

"Yes, Robert." She answered, offended.

"Alright, just be careful, okay?"

She kissed him on the cheek, "Bye Pop."

"Alright, Harold." Arnold began, "I need you to punch me."

"Wh-what?"

Oh great, Arnold thought, now he's reluctant.

"Just hit me, hard enough to leave a mark."

"Gee, Arnold, I dunno." Harold said, "I still feel bad about lunch, I don't want to make things worse."

Arnold sighed, "It's a trick, Harold. I promise it won't hurt me."

"Oh... well, okay. If you're sure." Harold pulled his arm back like they do in the movies.

Also like in the movies, Arnold noticed Helga and forgot what he was doing. His eyes went into a classic tunnel vision, and he could've sworn he heard birds singing.

When Harold's punch connected with his jaw, and he landed hard on the ground, he swore again that he heard birds singing.

"Arnold!" Harold shouted, "You promised it wouldn't hurt you!"

Arnold sat there in the dirt, and rubbed his bruising jaw, "Oh yeah... sorry Harold, I forgot to do the trick."

Helga quickly crossed the street, "What's going on?"

Harold through his hands up, proclaiming his innocence, "Arnold messed up his magic trick! It wasn't my fault, I swear!"

"Arnold?" Helga looked down at the disoriented Arnold, "Is this true?"

"Yeah, I messed up." He pulled himself to his feet and dusted off his pants, "I forgot to do the trick."

"Be careful, you don't want to hurt yourself worse." Helga said, looking sadly at Arnold's cast.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing." He reassured her, "Alright, Harold. Try again."

"You sure?"

Arnold smirked and nodded.

"Okay." Harold wound up to throw another punch.

"Let me have it." Arnold said.

Harold swung, and suddenly found himself moving forward. His fist had touched nothing but air, and the momentum had dragged him a few steps behind Arnold.

"I missed!" Harold proclaimed.

"If you say so."

"Let me try again!" He begged.

"Go ahead." Arnold laughed.

Harold moved back in front of Arnold, and this time assumed a more practical stance. He shot a fist forward with minimal arcing, and pulled it back. Again, he had felt nothing but air. He stared at Arnold, perplexed, then tried his other hand. Still, he felt nothing.

"What the...?"

Arnold held his hands out, "Anybody else want to try?"

Sid stepped forward happily, aiming low and kicking at Arnold's shin. He too at first thought he missed, but when he tried again and nothing happened, he stood there in awe.

"Whoa."

Stinky walked up and tried, failing as well to lay a hand on Arnold. Even Eugene gave it a shot, and he ended up bruising his foot.

"What's the trick, man?"

"Yeah, how's it done?"

"Tell us!" Harold begged.

Arnold just shook his head, "No can do, guys."

"Do you know any other tricks?" Helga asked, curious.

"One or two..." Arnold answered, "At the moment."

Gerald scoffed, "I'm out of here."

Arnold ran after him, "Gerald, where are you going?"

A little ways away from his friends, Arnold grabbed Gerald by the shoulder. Gerald batted his hand away, "You're accepting it now? This whole 'Magiker' thing? You didn't think to include me?"

"Gerald, it isn't like that!"

Gerald kept walking, "Whatever, Arnold. Have fun with your 'tricks'."

"Gerald!" Arnold called after him, "Gerald..."

Arnold's shoulder's fell, and he sighed heavily. The last thing he wanted was for Gerald to be mad at him.

"Hey, Arnold!" Stinky called from the lot, "Come show us some more of those tricks!"

Arnold smiled and ran back to his friends.

* * *

The sun was setting when Arnold finally left the lot. He had spent hours trying out new things with his friends, impressing them with tricks that wouldn't seem too unrealistic. Helga seemed particularly interested, and that made Arnold _particularly _happy.

However his victories were bittered by the lack of Gerald's approval, so he made the decision to visit his friend and apologize after he dropped his back pack off at his house.

Unfortunately, destiny had made other plans.

Just as Arnold was approaching his stoop, something hollow slapped against Arnold's head, "Ow!"

He spun around and came face to face with the gypsy. She held a rolled up newspaper in one hand, her finger's clenched tightly around it.

"You!" Arnold shouted.

"Foolish boy!" She hissed in that untraceable accent of hers, "You abuse your powers as if they were parlor tricks!"

Arnold blushed, ashamed, "You... saw that?"

"I didn't have to, you carry the shame of a performer in your contrived smile!"

Arnold replaced his contrived smile with a frown, "I... I am sorry."

"Fool." She spat something green onto the ground. Arnold realized it was chewing gum.

"Hey, who are you to yell at me!? You tell me all this stuff about my future, then you pack up camp and disappear? You had something to do with the bus crash, didn't you?"

"Fool! Fool of a boy!" She said something in a language foreign to Arnold's ears, "It wasn't me who caused the catalyst, I'd be a great sorcerer indeed if I could change the fates!"

"Jeez, I'm sorry! Take it easy!" Arnold said, the woman's yelling was beginning to fluster him, and draw attention.

"You are the one who should take it easy, you foolish boy."

Arnold's Grandfather suddenly opened the door, "Hey, Pookie, did you get the groceries- Oh, hey Arnold, how was school?"

Arnold stared hard at the fortune teller, "... Grandma?"

"I will not be a servant to the super-market!" She yelled at Phil.

"Fine, I'll get them, just give me the list I gave you!" He yelled back.

The Gypsy unwrapped her veil, revealing that she was indeed Arnold's grandmother, and pulled a piece of paper from the folds in the fabric, "Here's your stinking list."

Phil took the list and mumbled, "Well, see you guys when I get home."

Arnold looked at his Grandma, and she looked around, whistling.

"Grandma?"

"Yes, Arnold?"

"You have a lot of explaining to do."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**Some Much Needed Explanation**

"Ah, yes. The story of the Magiker." Arnold's Grandmother pulled a large book out from a small shelf in her bedroom, and handled it to the boy.

"What is this?" Arnold asked, opening the book.

"It is the journal of my great grandfather, your great great great grandfather." She answered, "You won't find that published in any of your 'libraries' or 'bookstores'."

Arnold opened the cover of the book, revealing a white page with the name, 'Barnaby Churchill' written in black ink.

"Grandpa Churchill died when I was just a baby, but I inherited the journal, by request of course." Gertrude began, "They didn't think much of it, and I was an avid reader those days, so they allowed me to keep the journal."

Arnold nodded, listening intently from his spot on the edge of his Grandma's bed.

"At first the journal was just your average diary, failed romances, memorable moments, yadda yadda... But then, about thirty pages in, old Barnaby got real mysterious." She continued, "He mentioned something about his father mysteriously reappearing on his 21st birthday, with terrifying news."

"'The Devil has come for your soul!' the senior Churchill shrieked! Naturally, Barnaby had no clue as to what his father was talking about, and was none too eager to hear an explanation. You see, Barnaby's dad had left when he was just a boy, and it's hard to forgive something like that."

Arnold nodded, agreeing, something akin to bitterness filling him. He shook it off, and his Grandma continued.

"But that didn't stop Barnaby's father from trying to explain. Barnaby had him thrown in an asylum, his explanation seemed insane! Even for back then! So Barnaby went on with his life for several years, forgetting about what his father had told him."

"And what had he told him?" Arnold asked, curious.

Gertrude got real quiet for a moment, then turned away from Arnold, "He told him the story of the first Magiker in our family, a man named Alonzo Grant."

"Which was?" Arnold asked.

"Patience my boy," Gertrude said calmly, "The story rings with the same tone as that of Dr. Faustus and his encounter with Mephistopheles."

Arnold grew silent.

"Seeking power and knowledge beyond human comprehension, Alonzo sold his soul to the devil. In exchange for his soul, Satan turned him into a Magiker."

"Was he the first?"

"No," Arnold's grandmother said, "The Magiker is as old as time itself, and although there are other ways to get those powers, Alonzo got his through the Devil. An exchange of souls"

Arnold swallowed hard.

"But the Devil didn't expect Alonzo to become so powerful, and Grant lived for much longer than Satan expected him to. He had many children, but none of them showed any sign of inheriting his powers... until his grandson was born."

"That," Gertrude continued, "Is the trick of it, the Magik skips a generation. My mother had it, and now you have it Arnold."

Arnold's nodded slowly, "I see... why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I had hoped that your other ancestors may have diluted your blood enough to rid you of the cursed power, but when I saw the catalyst in the cards, I knew you had it."

"So you really are a fortune teller?" Arnold asked.

His grandmother chuckled, "Part time."

Arnold laughed with his grandmother, than he grew sour, "But why did the Devil come for Churchill's soul?"

"That my boy, is something even I don't know. Churchill was a Magiker, but only later in his life did he figure it out. Sometime after his father's mysterious appearance, his skills manifested. He died at the age of 60, which was unlike a Magiker, and I assume he was murdered."

"By whom?"

A dark shadow fell over Gertrude's face. She spoke quietly, "A servant of the being who had been responsible for his gift in the first place."

"You think... you think the Devil killed him?"

Realizing the stress she was putting the boy under, Arnold's grandmother quickly brightened, "Oh! Well, my dear boy, that was just the theory of a young and foolish girl! I'm sure his death was completely unrelated to the contract Alonzo Grant made so many years before!"

Arnold nodded, skeptical as always, "If you say so."

For some reason unknown to him, Arnold didn't tell his grandmother about the bird outside his classroom window. And realizing he wouldn't get much more of a history lesson from Gertrude, he thanked her and excused himself.

There was someone he owed an apology to. Arnold grabbed his plaid peacoat and left his home to scour the blackened streets of Hillwood in search of his best friend.

* * *

"Gerald said he was going out for a walk." Timberly Johanssen told Arnold as she opened the door.

"It's past eight."

She shrugged, "I don't question my brother's stupid walking schedule."

"Well," Arnold sighed, "At least could you tell me where he went?"

Timberly looked side to side, lost in fraudulent debate, "Hmmm..."

"What about your parents, couldn't I just-" Arnold tried to sneak past the young girl, but she shot her arm out across the doorframe, blocking his entrance with her sinewy limb.

"No. That isn't going to happen." Timberly smiled deviously, "They don't even know that Gerald is out."

"Timberly." Arnold said, any semblance of a smile had long left his face, "Tell me."

"Five dollars."

"Yeah right!" Arnold shouted in protest, "I'll find him on my own!"

Arnold turned to walk away, but Timberly protested before he got far, "Arnold... Hillwood's a big town."

Arnold turned back around and reached for his wallet, but then he was hit with an epiphany, "I'm good at finding people."

He left Timberly in the dust.

* * *

Arnold sat on a bench a few blocks from Gerald's house, his mind searching excitedly for a way to find his friend quickly.

He was a Magiker, now he knew that. Surely his powers were powerful enough to do a little search and rescue, minus the rescue.

He closed his eyes, and pulled his gold pocket watch from his coat pocket. He knew all about GPS, and figured it wouldn't be too hard for him to create a mental map of Hillwood. After doing that, it would be easy for him to find Gerald, he just had to send out a wave, like sonar, that would bounce back and tell Arnold where his friend was.

In theory it sounded pretty good, so with closed eyes and a focused mind, Arnold set about forming a map of his town in his head.

He felt a rush of something hit him, and time slowed around him.

He gasped. It felt like his mind was sucked out of his skull, and thrown at incredible speeds through the streets of Hillwood. Light and color blended and blurred in streams all around him, until suddenly he stopped in front of a young black man with large hair. Gerald was sitting at a bus stop a few blocks away.

Arnold's mind flew back into his body so fast, it almost threw the boy off the bench. He yelped, and sat there, breathing heavily as he slowly opened his eyes.

He knew where Gerald was, but for a moment he was too shocked to stand. His plan had worked better than he could have imagined.

Arnold wasn't much of a literature guy, and he knew he was nowhere near as big about poetry as Helga was... but as he sat there, amazed at his own power, he felt the works of Edgar Allan Poe spring to his mind.

He quoted 'Alone' aloud, " From the lightning in the sky, as it pass'd me flying by— from the thunder, and the storm— and the cloud that took the form..."

Suddenly, his eyes came to rest on something creeping toward him in the darkness. As it grew closer, it stepped beneath an orange streetlamp, and Arnold saw it for what it was.

**(When the rest of Heaven was blue)**

**Of a demon in my view—**


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**Resolutions and Ugly Children**

Now Arnold Philip Shortman was nothing if not a man of logic, but the events of the past few days had shaken his resolve a little. So, try as he might, he could find no explanation for the red-skinned, horned, monstrous creature that was moving at an uncomfortable speed toward him.

"Whoa." Arnold said, a bit shakily, "Stay back."

The thing spoke in gurgling voice, "A word."

"Are you the Devil?!" Arnold asked, his voice cracking.

The thing laughed in a throaty yet shrill laugh, it seemed to scratch at the air, "No."

"What are you then?!" Arnold said, holding a hand up to ward away the creature, who was growing closer to him by the second, "Tell me!"

To Arnold's surprise, the thing actually cowered.

"Please don't hurt me!" It shouted, "I'm just a messenger!"

"For..." Arnold knew the answer. This demon was a messenger from hell. Whatever it came to say would be in the Devil's words.

"My master bids thee welcome to the battle, it has been sometime since a Magiker walked this side of the earth... and a longer time since an heir of Grant held the power."

Arnold remembered what his Grandmother had told him about Alonzo Grant, and his deal with the Devil. Any doubt the boy may have had about the contents of the diary were now gone. The Devil was clearly very real, and after Arnold's soul.

"Why my soul? Wasn't Grant's enough?!"

"The contract runs a lot deeper than one soul, Magiker. The price is a line. Soul after soul after soul." The thing laughed, "Your ancestor damned more than just himself. He damned you all."

A sudden bout of uncontainable fear seized Arnold, and a bolt of blue lightning shot from his outstretched hand.

The thing screamed as the bolt bore a hole through its right side. From the edges of the freshly seared orifice, sparks of blue moved their way across the howling creatures body, erasing him from existence as they travelled. In a matter of seconds, it was reduced to a pile of faintly glowing blue ashes. A small pile at that.

Arnold might have sworn he still heard the thing's screams, only muted and far away sounding. Where does a creature from hell go when it dies? Back to hell?

Arnold fell to his butt on the cold sidewalk, holding his weaponized hand as far away from his body as possible. This wasn't a gun he could put the safety on or throw away, this was a part of him. And it was dangerous.

There was no evidence of what his hand had just done, save for a feint blue light that seemed to emanate from his finger tips, yet he was scared to even look at it. It buzzed. There was a buzzing from inside his hand. Tiny little aftershocks from the storm he had just created were traversing up and down his palm and fingers.

He wanted to take off his hand. His frustration was mounting, threatening to burst. He wanted to scream.

"Calm down, Shortman. Just take it easy." He told himself, breathing deeply in and out.

He tried thinking of things to ease his fear. He tried thinking of home, but thoughts of his Grandmother just refilled the worry in his stomach. He tried thinking of Gerald, but the fact that his best friend was only a few blocks away seething with anger did nothing to calm him.

He thought of the girl in his dream, the one he hadn't quite got the name of before waking up. The one he barely remembered, except for her blonde hair and less than sparkling personality.

There. She, whoever she was, was calming him down.

He continued to breathe deeply, and let the memory of this non-entity girl soothe him. Before long the buzzing in his hand had ceased, and he slowly pulled himself back to his feet.

The Demon's ashes had been carried away by the wind.

Arnold looked down at his weapon of a hand, and frowned. Then he looked to his other hand, the one adorned with a cast, and frowned some more. It still hurt, but no too badly.

Then, another idea struck him. He concentrated and squeezed his fist as tight as he could. He felt and heard something pop in his wrist.

It hurt like hell, but after about 5 seconds it faded away completely. All the pain was gone, and with it the stiffness.

Arnold pulled his pocket knife out and carefully cut away the cast. He inspected his wrist, and it looked perfectly fine. As if it had never broken. There were no scars, no protruding bones. He was healed.

He walked over to a nearby trashcan and dropped the cast into its black bag lined oblivion. All remnants of his injury were gone.

Now to find Gerald.

* * *

He was beginning the walk home when Arnold ran into him.

"Man, I'm sorry." They said in unison.

"I shouldn't have freaked out-"

"-should have told you first-"

"-weren't doing anything wrong-"

"-never should have left you in ecology-"

"I'm sorry." They both said again. They shared their springy little secret handshake, then hugged.

"I promise I'll include you in all affairs magiker-related starting now." Arnold said, "So you might want to get comfortable, because I have something serious to say."

Gerald walked over to the closest bench and sat down, "Is this about Helga?"

"What? No! It's about... wait." Arnold asked: "What about Helga?"

"Forget it." Gerald said, smiling.

"No! Tell me what you meant!" Arnold insisted.

"It's nothing, Arnold. I'm just teasing you." Gerald said.

"Okay... good. I-... does she like me?" Arnold asked shyly.

Gerald was shocked, "What?"

"Did she say anything about liking me?"

"I cannot believe what I'm hearing!"

"I'm just curious!" Arnold defended himself, but his blush betrayed his intentions.

"Are you insane, Arnold! This is Helga we're talking about!"

Arnold's embarrassment quickly turned to anger, "What's wrong with her?!"

Gerald's hands shot up in protest, "Nothing! She's great, Helga's great... it's just that it's Helga. I might have sworn she hated you until you saved her life in the bus. Hell, I even thought the feeling was mutual."

"I don't hate her." Arnold said, "Actually..."

Gerald's eyes widened, "No!"

"What?" Arnold asked.

"You like Helga! Helga Pataki!" Gerald said, "You actually want her to like you back!"

"So!?" Arnold shouted, much louder than he intended to.

Gerald looked down at the ground, "So... cool."

"What?" Arnold asked.

"You like Helga? That's great. I'm glad you like a girl. She's hot too, which is a surprise, considering how she looked back in the day." Gerald said.

"You mean it?" Arnold said, "You're okay with the fact that I... well that I have feelings for Helga?"

"Yeah. Like I said: I'm happy about it." Gerald said, "But you guys are going to have some really ugly kids."

Arnold laughed a lot louder than he had in a long time.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Dreaming of Demons

Arnold had just finished explaining his bizzarre confrontation to his best friend. They sat there in silence for a while, and the wind made unusual sounds as it carried leaves and garbage over the city streets.

"You're joking." Gerald said in his state of utter disbelief, "There's no way your serious."

"I wouldn't lie to you again, Gerald."

"There's absolutely no way a demon just attacked you on the streets of Hillwood!" Gerald said, throwing his hands up in protest.

"You're right."

Gerald raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"He didn't attack me. He was just bringing a message. I freaked out and murdered him."

Gerald opened his mouth to speak but found his voice-box empty.

"I just destroyed it."

"Arnold, it was from hell, I'm not going to hold the fact that you obliterated this thing against you. You probably did the right thing." Gerald said.

Arnold chuckled a bit, "I shot the messenger, Gerald."

"What?"

Arnold laughed louder, "They always say don't shoot the messenger, and I shot him!"

Gerald stared at his best friend in blatant confusion, "I think you need to go to sleep, man."

Arnold wiped a tear from his left eye, "I... I think you're right."

Gerald draped an arm over Arnold's shoulder, "C'mon, let's get you home."

"Alright."

"Hey, Arnold, where'd your cast go?" Gerald asked.

"I fixed my wrist," Arnold said wearily, "I didn't need it anymore."

"Crazy." Gerald almost whispered.

The walk to Arnold's home was cold and dark.

* * *

Arnold stared at his alarm clock. It was due to go off and three minutes, then he would have to get up, get dressed, and go to school.

The only problem was he hadn't slept at all in the previous 24 hours, and he could barely move. He was struggling to keep his eyes open. Dysania was running rampant, and his insomnia was easing into oblivion. He quickly came to the conclusion that he could probably manage to fall asleep now, if only he had the time to.

Then something clicked in his head. Time.

He was the Magiker, he had already proven to himself that he had a more than enough power to control time.

He smiled, and felt the warmth of his bed pull him away from the troubles of waking. His eyes shut slowly, and the world went dark.

It would stay 6:57 until Arnold was ready to really wake up.

* * *

"Do you live here?" The blonde haired girl asked Arnold as they roamed the carnival grounds.

"Yes I do." Arnold said. Her arm was locked around his.

"That's quite adventurous."

Arnold smiled, "Anything could be adventurous if you make it so."

"That's stupid." She rebuffed, kicking at a rock as they passed the freak-show tent, "Do you want to go in there?"

"Been in there a bunch," Arnold said apathetically, "But I'll go with you if you want me to."

"You don't have to." She said, almost meanly, "I can handle myself."

She pulled her arm out from around his and started walking toward the entrance. Arnold hurried to catch up, "Wait!"

"What?" She said, turning around quickly.

Arnold might have sworn he saw her hide a smile as she turned around, "I'll go with you. It's been a while since I've seen the geeks."

She rolled her eyes, "You're a geek."

"Thanks." Arnold said, sighing, "Are you going in or not?"

She looked at the gap in the tent, and Arnold thought he saw a hint of fear cross over he face.

"C'mon," he said, walking up and hooking his arm in hers again, "I'll be your escort."

Something akin to a whisper of a whimper came from the girl as Arnold pulled her into the tent.

The first exhibit was lame, and the young woman made a point to confirm its lameness.

"Give them a break, they do their best." Arnold said, defending his fellow carnies.

"They could go a bit heavier on the paper mache... or at least paint it." She said, more teasing than honestly cruel.

"What's your name?" Arnold asked for what must've been the fifth time in the last half hour.

The girl took off, pulling him further into the tent, "Look at this one!"

She dragged him to the last exhibit, a poorly made up little person designed to look like a demon. But something about it didn't sit right with Arnold, and

he woke up with a start.

* * *

... Seven hours passed while he slept, yet the earth and everyone on it remained absolutely still.

"A word."

Arnold shot up in bed.

In the center of the room stood a gangly green creature. It seemed to have more joints than it could possibly need, and it had long gnarly horns that were nearly the length of it's arms.

"No." Arnold said, his voice half lost in his throat.

His eyes darted quickly to his alarm clock, but it was still 6:57, and the second hand wasn't moving.

"How?" He asked, his voice shaking.

"We exist outside your mortal definition of time." The demon uttered.

"What do you want?" Arnold's body was trembling.

"The King of Liars has a message for you."

Arnold grimaced, "I got his message earlier."

The creature shook his head, "There's a new one."

Arnold's heart seemed to slow down to a nauseating pace. He swallowed hard.

"Lord Lucifer gives you one warning. You are new, so he can forgive your first transgression." The demon smirked, "My master bids me warn you: If you continue to kill his servants, he will start to kill yours."

Arnold stared at the monster in disgust, "I have no servants."

The creature smiled widely, "Your... 'friends' as you call them."

Arnolds fear turned quickly to anger, and he held up his hand.

The demon cowered in fear.

"If you touch any one of them, I swear I'll-"

"Please! I'm just doing my master's bidding! Don't kill me!"

Arnold screamed, "Get out! Get out now!"

The thing vanished in a puff of smoke, and Arnolds room reeked of brimstone.

He quickly climbed up to the roof. There was no breeze. Nothing to calm him down. He sat there on the edge, staring at the ground below through the space between his feet. He breathed in and out until he regained his composure.

It took another hour before he could go back inside.

He spent ten minutes pacing around his room, trying to find a way to prevent further demonic intrusions.

In the end he decided to just hold out his hand, and focus really hard on creating some sort of barrier.

His hand started to glow blue, and Arnold cringed, fearing his own destructive power. But instead of a bolt of lightning, vapors seemed to appear in the air around his hand. They danced around his room, before dissolving.

Once they were gone, Arnold felt an overwhelmingly amount of positive energy inside his room. Whatever he had managed to do, it certainly made him feel safe.

Feeling comfortable in his own home once more, Arnold allowed time to continue.

Three minutes later his alarm clock went off, and he prepared himself for the third day of school.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

A Temporary Romantic Interlude

Helga was reading from a book of poetry when Arnold found her on the steps by their school. He watched her for a second as she pushed a strand of yellow hair out from in front of her eyes and then tucked it behind her ear.

She was deeply lost in whatever she was reading, Arnold could tell from the glazed over look her eyes held. She was in a peaceful state, and he wanted not to interrupt her.

He very carefully sat on the steps a few rows below hers, and waited watching as she finished the page.

When her devouring gaze finally wandered over the last two lines in the poem, she let out a small sigh, then shut the book.

Now Arnold was worried. He hadn't planned on what to do after Helga had finished reading. When she saw him there, staring at her like some uninvited audience, she would surely be displeased.

He looked around in a panic.

"How can I help you, Football-head?"

Arnold's body went rigid, "You knew I was here?"

Helga looked up from the cover of her shut book, "I would have stopped reading but I honestly thought you were just passing by."

"Oh I was!" Arnold said, flustered, "Well I mean I was looking for you!"

Helga blushed.

"I mean I wanted to run into you!" Arnold said, blushing back madly, he started to force a chuckle, "Why wouldn't I want to run into you, you're my friend, right?"

Helga's blush vanished, and her smile faltered, "Yeah. Friends."

She stood up and slid her book into her messenger bag.

The bell rang, the warning for students to get to homeroom.

Arnold stood there, staring at her like before, only this time with confusion on his face.

This girl was such a mystery to him. Every moment he was with her the atmosphere seemed to change. First he was sure that she had feelings for them, then he'd become uncertain if she even liked him as a friend. It was like she was changing at all time, evading his quest for the truth.

It bugged him, to say the least.

"Helga." He said, his brain working in overdrive, trying desperately to find a way to reveal another clue, a means to bring him one step closer to solving the mystery.

"Arnold, we're going to be late."

He found the faint slimmer of something, an abstraction of an idea. A word tossed around so much these days that people mostly forget its actual purpose.

The age old concept of the 'date'.

"Helga, would you want to watch a movie at my house later today?" He asked a little too quickly.

She stared at him, two wide eyes quivering but not blinking, "You and Gerald?"

"No, just me." Arnold said, his heart pounding at the speed of light.

"What movie?"

"I dunno."

"When?"

"I dunno."

"Did you plan this at all?" Helga asked, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.

"Um... well no, actually." Arnold admitted, rubbing the back of his head.

"You just asked me out, on a whim?"

Arnold's blood froze, "Well no! It's not a date! Who said a date? I just want to hang out!"

"You're the only one who called it a 'date', Arnoldo." Helga said, pushing her way past Arnold and continuing up the steps to the school's front entrance, "I don't have time for this, I'm going to be late."

"Wait!" Arnold shouted, frustrated, "Why are you mad at me all of the sudden!?"

"Because you're annoying!" Helga shouted back, her usually strong voice a little shaky.

"You liked hanging out with me a few days ago, what happened?!"

Helga said nothing and stormed away angrily.

The bell starting to ring as she walked through the front door. Arnold dropped hard back onto the steps. Weary and confused, he held his face with his hands.

"Well that went well." He snapped his fingers, and the world began to move in reverse.

The wind sucked in the opposite direction that it blew, the doors flew open as Helga walked backwards out from the school, the ringing of the bell stopped, and soon enough Helga was sitting down again, reading in reverse from her book of poetry.

Arnold snapped his fingers again, and the world stood still.

He stared at Helga, who still remained such a mystery to him. Then he stood up, walked toward the school's doors, opened them, and snapped again. The world began to move again, and Helga went back to reading her poetry.

Only this time, she was alone.

* * *

"I just don't understand it, Gerald." Arnold said as he followed behind his friend in the lunch line, "I guess she doesn't like me."

"Nah, Arnold. Girls are just funny like that." Gerald said with a hint of resentment in his voice, "They don't want to give any hints."

"But at least I reversed it." Arnold said, "And erased her memory of me making a fool of myself."

"Yeah," Gerald began, "But Arnold you can't live your whole life like that."

"I know." Arnold said, he was getting a little sick of the lectures on responsibility.

"If you always just erase your mistakes, you'll find yourself never actually living life." Gerald inspected a chocolate chip cookie before dropping it on his tray, "You know?"

"Yeah I know." Arnold said, handing the lunch lady his money before following Gerald into the cafeteria.

They took their usual seats and shortly after Helga joined them.

"Hi guys." She said, smiling her half smile.

"Hey Helga." Gerald said with food in his mouth.

"Hi." Arnold said shortly, looking up from his tray for only a second.

"How's everybody's third day of school going?" A smiling Eugene asked as he approached their lunch table.

"Swell." Helga said, looking at Arnold.

"Pretty good." Gerald replied.

"Fine." Arnold spooned a mouthful of potatoes past his lips.

"Do you guys mind if I sit down?"

Gerald looked around, but Arnold was too focused on not looking at Helga, and Helga was too focussed on looking at Arnold, so he had to answer.

With a slight sigh he hoped remained unheard, he gave Eugene permission, "Go ahead, man."

"Much obliged." The clumsy red head took a seat on the other side of Arnold and began to eat.

Gerald sighed again, but this time he didn't care if he was heard.

Now not only did he have to help his friend deal with the burdens of being a magic-empowered teenager, but also help him sorten out his love life.

"Criminy." He said, looking almost angrily at the still staring Helga.


End file.
